Upon The Brink
by Caledonia1986
Summary: A what-if story! What if it wasn't V who captured and tortured Evey? What if it was really the Finger? My take on what would have happened then! Rated T for mentions of torture and excessive violence!
1. Chapter 1

**Upon the Brink**

_A V for Vendetta Fanfiction_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm merely borrowing!_

**_Warnings: Some of the events written herein are extremely graphic and violent! Content is not suitable for underage persons! You have been warned!_**

_Summary: What if it wasn't V who captured and tortured Evey? This is what I think could have arisen from such an event._

_Note: The quote: "He who doesn't fear death dies only once" was said by Giovanni Falcone._

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**Chapter 1**

All was silent, so silent. Evey expected to hear something, but no sound penetrated the darkness, which allowed her to dwell a little longer amidst her memories and realise what had happened. The first and foremost thing that crossed her mind was of course her betrayal to V. How could she have been so foolish as to run from him and bring someone as nice and caring as Gordon into trouble. Evey was quite certain, if she hadn't been there the confrontation wouldn't have been like this. But then again, considering what Gordon had done on his TV show, she guessed it really didn't matter anymore. That she had been found at his house only served as a swift judgement and a quick end for Gordon.

Oh, yes, Evey had heard that single shot being fired, followed by a low thump as something heavy hit the ground. Accompanied with that sickening scent of blood she could smell behind the black bag they had covered her head with made her certain that the good, caring Gordon was dead.

Which left only her. Why hadn't Creedy ordered her to be shot as well?

The answer was quite simpe actually. They wanted information, just as V had told her. They needed her. Because they wanted V, wanted to catch the infamous Terrorist and go on ruling their terror over the heads of London's public.

And again, only one thought manifested itself in the dark confidants of Evey's brain.

_How could I betray V like that? He never tried to hurt me specifically, has always kept me safe, if even as a prisoner in his home, but it had been safer there than above ground. _

And she had run on the first opportunity. Had tricked him into believing that she would help him in his strive for freedom. And he had believed her, oh she could still remember the sound of is voice as she had turned from him, that look of silent disbelief as Lilliman had blabbed out that she had warned him. It still haunted her every moment.

Surely he would hate her now. And he had a right to do so. She would even deserve to be on his bad side now, would deserve to be at the receiving end of this violence he showed towards people that he thought deserved to die.

Her thoughts were broken as the bag was ripped off her head and her eyes were assaulted by a blinding light pointed at her. Trembling she squinted at the light, trying to make out a feature of the person sitting opposite of her, covered in shadow. Fear assaulted her now, grabbed her with viscious icecold claws and leaned over her, leering inside her ear. She could only guess at what was to happen next, but a tiny voice inside her head told her that whatever it was, it surely wouldn't be pleasant.

"Evey Hammond. Do you know why you are here?" the person asked and Evey recognised the voice as male. The voice sounded like she had heard it before also, but she couldn't picture a face alongside the voice. Whoever it was, even the sound of that person sent shivers down her spine, spikes of fear, as if that invisible beast behind her stroked her shoulders with these icy claws. Too terrified to do anything beyond shaking, Evey didn't answer. Yet that didn't seem to bother the man too much.

"We know you are in league with the terrorist known as V. You have one chance to get out of this and only one chance. You must give us sufficient information as to either the identity or the whereabouts of this man. Do you cooperate?" the man asked and left the open suggestion as to what could be happening to her if Evey decided to not cooperate with them.

Mortified Evey stared at the face of the man in front of her, how casually he sat there, as if this question was a regular question of some trivial thing. Yet the implications he placed were enough to make the young woman quake in sheer horror.

After a few moments of silence, which he gave her to contemplate whether or not to betray V again, his patience ran a bit thinner.

"If you choose not to cooperate, we will be forced to process you and get the information we want by other means. But we will get it in the end, it is only a matter of how we will get it. The choice is yours." he said and leaned a fraction towards the light and his face, though still engulfed in shadow, seemed to tense and Evey could sense that he fixed her with his stare.

_Seems like spending time with V actually gave me a new sense of what people think even though I don't see their faces..._

Still unable to answer properly due to the shaking that still controlled her and a fear of fainting the next moment because of utter terror, Evey only stared at the shadowy figure in front of her. Gradually the man leaned ever more forward and emerged into the light, placing his hands atop the table, in pretty much the same motion V used to do when he sat with her and they talked over the table while she ate the meals he prepared for her. A sudden urge to cry overcame Evey as the memory washed over her. V, in that hilarious apron of his, clothed in black, standing at the stove and preparing delicious meals for her, while kindly teasing her about something.

As Evey finally looked up again, she was faced with the impassive stare of Peter Creedy himself, fixing her with those hard, cold eyes. Eyes that wouldn't blink at the prospect of torture towards her.

"Fine then. You will give us the information we want, sooner or later."

Turning around to adress someone standing outside of the small interrogation room, he said the words that would haunt Evey for years to come.

"Process her."

* * *

Meanwhile V held silent vigil above the heads of so many sleeping and unknowing people. London was deep in slumber and if he would be honest with himself, even V was a little tired. Mostly because the memory of the betrayal that cruel angel Evey had dealt him still lingered.

_How foolish of me... to think she would understand..._

She had run away the first chance she got, trying to protect a paedophiliac priest, who didn't deserve to be called a servant of the Allmigthy. And V, the silent avenger, had been foolish enough to believe Evey would actually help him. The moment these accursed words left the priests mouth, he had frozen and a large part of his humanity had died, as he looked into those blazing blue eyes, filled with fear and the realization of what she had done. For a moment he was stunned into utter silence, into total and complete disbelief.

He had hoped that the time within the Shadow Gallery would help her in more than in the prospect of keeping her safe. Because when he was honest, it was mostly his fault that she was a wanted felon. If he hadn't invited her along that fateful night to the roof opposing the Old Bailey, she wouldn't have been in trouble.

But when he had felt her hand grab his gloved one, so dainty and frail, he simply couldn't control the urge to invite her and spin the ever-moving wheels of fate.

And now this!

_Foolish girl!_

He had seldom felt so dissapointed in another human. And at the same moment he felt such immeasurable hate and wrath that he would have nearly been ready to tear the first person apart that crossed his path tonight.

And yet, he simply had the irresistible urge to find out where she was, to make sure that wherever she could be hiding, she was at least safe and not in the clutches of the Finger.

_So what if she is, she left you the moment an opportunity presented itself, let the Finger have her_, _let them get rid of her! _the darkest part of his mind whispered to him and consciously V realized that it was only his dissappointment in her actions that made him harbour such thoughts.

_And we have played a rather large part in that, haven't we?_ another voice piped up. V had to agree with that. He supposed it had not been easy on her, to know she was a prisoner, only about to be released in one year.

Deliberately ignoring the thoughts running through his mind, his hatred battling with his unnatural desire to protect her, he silently moved through the shadows over the rooftops of London.

There was really only one place he could think of where little Evey might be hiding. Partly because he had seen that small scrap of paper Evey had in her possession, with Gordon Deitrichs number and adress on it. And so, he moved among the shadows, crept close to Deitrichs house and peered cautiously over the wall in the backyard.

And what he saw, didn't really assure him that Evey was safe and sound, merely hiding in Deitrichs house. Instead he could spot a large puddle of blood on the ground next to the small terrace. Closer inspection told him that the blood was at least a day old, perhaps longer and the amount of it spoke for a deadly injury.

Presently a sound emanated from the silent house and voices drew closer, forcing V to retreat back into the shadows and watch them from a corner under the shade of a grand tree.

Then, two men stepped out of the house, carrying "God save the Queen" between them and talking animatedly with each other. So Deitrichs hidden cellar had been discovered. More and more facts to add to the assumption that Gordon Deitrich was dead, especially after what he had done that fateful show, making fun of Chancellor Sutler no less.

Of course, V had been immensely pleased with what his Vendetta enforced people to do, and that a man as important as Deitrich had dared to raise flags at the regime itself by making fun of its leader, made him suddenly proud of the man. But still, V had suspected that the Finger would come for him, which was part of why he was here tonight. He knew that if Evey indeed was hiding here and they would come to take Deitrich into custody, they would find Evey also.

The sound of sickeningly pleased laughter yanked him out of his thoughts and he focussed on the men again.

"Who'd think that the old bloke would be one of the gays?" one said, crunching up his face in disgust.

_That doesn't sound well for Gordon..._

"And being on of these Muslims no less! Right under our nose! And he even hid that terrorist girl!" the other exclaimed, leaning on the frame of the large picture.

_Now it gets interesting... _V thought as he strained to hear more, gather more information regarding young Evey.

"Well, no good did it bring him,eh? Bet the crows are already picking at his liver."

That did indeed confirm his suspicions, Gordon Deitrich was dead.

"What ya think the finger will do to the girl? Wish I could help them, wouldn't mind giving her a piece of me." the other man said, grabbing his parts and laughing sickeningly. A surge of anger washed over V at the things this men implied and part of him wanted to kill him at the spot for it. But the concern for Evey grew. From what these men said, Evey had been caught by the Fingermen no less. Without doubt Creedy would make it his personal pleasure to "interrogate" Evey for information.

Young, little, innocent Evey was a prisoner of the Finger now and V could only hope she wouldn't reveal him soon. The only possible way to ensure both his survival and the survival of his vendetta and Evey would be to "reclaim" her. Bring her back to the Shadow Gallery and making sure she wouldn't run away again.

As V turned and vanished among the other shadows of night, he allowed himself to hope against better judgement that Evey would hold out a little against them, only as long as it took him to locate her whereabouts and save her from Creedy.

Although he wasn't entirely sure that he wouldn't do something he might regret to her, he simply needed to help her. If anything, to make sure she understood that this fight belonged to her also from the moment she maced Detective Stone in that foyer of Jordan Tower.

_Evey, hold on for a little while... I come to find you..._

_

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**Read and review, please! Need to know if I should continue!**_  
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	2. Chapter 2

Okay, here it is. Chapter two! I hope you like^^

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**Chapter 2**

The days blurred together into a neverending cascade of pain, fear and pure agony. Evey had no idea how long she had been in this dark, damp cell, her body only covered by a dirty orange rag, her head shaven and bruised, her whole body covered with cuts and bruises, how many times Creedy's men had asked the same questions, fed her this disgusting slime they called "food" or beat her at every opportunity they got. Evey lost all track of time, mostly she didn't even know if it was day or night, while she rested her hurt body on the freezing floor of her cell.

Each passing moment was like a new eternity of agony. Her chest ached with every breath she shakily took, her feet could hardly support her weight anymore, her frame, once clearly seen as that of a woman, grew thinner and thinner, until she imagined she could count her vertebrae if she wanted to.

Constantly she was at war with herself, part of her wanting so badly to just give Creedy what he wanted and be left to die, while the other part of her insisted that she couldn't betray V like that. He had only tried to protect her by hiding her while trying to make her see the truth, the least she could do now was to keep silent about the Shadow Gallery.

But it was just so hard. Most of the time she told herself to keep silent, to not say anything, so often indeed that it started to become a Mantra to her, something she constantly repeated to remind herself that she'd not give in. Not even for her life. The lengths she was about to travel to not reveal V surprised her. She knew it could be that they killed her, at this point it probably was a certainty, and yet it wouldn't bother her as much as if she would live because she sold V to Creedy.

Each and every time someone entered her cell, it promised a new dimension of pain, a new way to break her. Mostly they resorted to brute violence, kicking and beating her until she almost fell unconcious. Permanentely she could smell and taste her own blood, crusting on her clothes and skin; so often the smell followed her even into her fitful dreams and slowly tore her sanity apart. Perhaps this was the reason why V hated Norsefire so passionately, perhaps he had been put through similar things. And if Evey was honest with herself, she began to understand his hate. She began to understand why he wanted to topple the regime, why he wanted England to be free of them again. She began to understand him better, because she could feel the growing disdain within her own soul. She had known long before that Norsefire was a bad government, but had succumbed in silent fear, afraid they could make her dissappear the way they had gotten rid of her entire family. And where had that led her? She had been blackbagged anyway, was tortured for information she refused to give up, may heaven itself know the real reason why.

V had tried to make her see, had tried to make her understand his motive, but Evey had been too scared to accept this hideous truth. She had realised that she wasn't as strong as V and her fear had driven her to betray him for that accursed priest, Bishop Lilliman.

Now, as she had time to ponder on all these events, she started to believe that maybe Lilliman had deserved his fate, had done something to warrant V's anger and death by his hand. Maybe Prothero had deserved it also. And she hoped, just a small, frail hope deep within her, that V could one day forgive her what she had done.

_Oh V, you were right all along. There is something terribly wrong with this country... _

Why hadn't she believed him? He had never given her any reason to distrust him, had always been kind and chivalrous to her, sat for hours and watched movies with her, gave her access to the immense amounts of knowledge blacklisted by Sutler. And all he had wanted in return was a little trust, just a little bit, only enough to ensure her he wouldn't harm her.

Choking back a dry sob, Evey turned her sore head into the bony crook of her elbow, staring into the darkness ahead of her. Even if she still had the emotional strength to cry, she lacked the physical ability to do so. She was dehydrated, had cried for uncounted hours, her lips were chapped and chaved, she dimly knew her body used all the remaining energy to keep her alive. She shouldn't waste it by crying.

Yet, even though her body was close to giving in and let it all be over with, her mind worked with terrible speed and accuracy. Evey thought of V, did he even know she was imprisoned by the Finger? And if he knew, would he even care about it? Would he be concerned or would he think that she deserved this fate?

_Certainly you deserve this..._ a calm voice emanated inside her head, as clear and solid as if the spokesperson kneeled directly next to her ear. And the accusation swinging along with it was also very clear and true. Evey had deceived V, the same man who saved her life twice.

_See? You deserve his hate... _the voice spoke again.

_Am I giong insane now? Hearing voices that aren't really there? _

_Perhaps you are Evey..._

Weakly Evey cracked a humorless smile. Of course she was going crazy, who would remain sane under these circumstances? Evey single moment more she spent in this hellhole made her slip a little closer towards insanity, with every blow she took, each time they kicked her or shoved her head into a bucket filled with icy water, her wall cracked a little more, her mind and coherent thought with it slipped a little further from her grasp.

And if that voice was to be her only company aside from being relentlessly questioned and tortured, Evey would gladly go crazy, would allow that voice to talk with her, if it promised a moments reprieve from this agony. Would accept insanity if it meant hearing someone not asking about V.

_But thats the problem, isn't it Evey? You'd think about him anyway. Creedy is right, its only a matter of time before you break down and tell them all they want to know._

The voice was cruel but she had a point. It was only a matter of time. Another choked sob escaped Evey's dry and cold lips and shook her frail and bruised frame. She didn't want V getting into trouble. Seemingly his plan had been flawless before she had come along and crossed his path. The very least she could do now was to not reveal him because of the vague promise of freedom under Norsefire's wing.

_Just because they promised doesn't mean they will keep it..._

True again. The probability was high that she would die here anyway. And if she told them what she knew, V and his cause would die alongside her and this country would wither to ashes. He would be forgotten and with him all he stood for.

"What should I do?" Evey asked aloud, though barely above a whisper, whispering into the stillness around her.

_Dont tell them_. The voice whispered back, calm and oddly soothing.

For a moment Evey imagined the voice to belong to V, yet also to herself. A strange mixture of sounds. And with that thought came the memory of V, how he moved, spoke, gestured, breathed, even the way he sat and read a book, completely motionless, yet aware to everything around him. Happily Evey remained in the memory of the masked man dwelling underneath London.

The way he had held out his hand and asked her if she were all right after he had saved her life from the Fingermen.

However, the sound of heavy footfalls approaching her door shook her out of this pleasant reverie and she was thrown back into the harsh, cold reality. Surely this was another one of her torturers, coming to hurt her a little more, push her a little closer to the edge of breakdown in the hope that she would finally fall apart and yield.

_Be strong Evey. Just don't tell them..._ the voice whispered to her again, comforting and strengthening and Evey silently vowed to remain silent. Even if it would cost her her life itself.

A viscious kick to her stomach made her cough and cringe in pain, but of course it was only the overture. The whole bloody symphony had only started.

Another set of kicks and blows showered down upon her and the now familiar taste of blood returned. Coughing violently, so hard it made her fear her chest would explode, Evey spat a mouthful to the ground and chose to focus solely on the voice in her head, real or not, that still whispered to her, still soothed her.

_I know it hurts Evey. But be quiet. Don't betray him further. _

Evey had no idea why, but the voice was right, she couldn't betray V any further. She wouldn't betray him again. Not caring anymore if he hated her or not, if he searched her or not, if he cared or not, Evey pushed everything aside and only listened to the voice while the kicks and punches made her lose any other feeling than sheer agony.

* * *

It had taken V a full count of 10 days to locate the precise position of Evey and develop a plan to get her out. Every moment that had passed since her capture, V expected his alarm systems to go off, alerting him about someone straying too close to the Gallery. But the whole time the system had remained silent. Upon making sure that little Evey was indeed still alive it only meant one possible explanation.

She had not told them, had not broken yet and revealed his home.

And with each hour that passed and his location remained hidden, V had realized that even though they tortured his Evey, she had refused to give them information.

She refused to betray him.

The knowledge of that served as his fuel to keep him going and focused, assured him that it was the right course to save Evey from the clutches of Creedy and his men. Dimly and quietly he acknowledged to himself that he would be forced to save her anyway, no matter what she did. May the Lord himself know why it had happened now, but he couldn't bear the thought of Evey getting hurt. He'd much rather die for her than have it the other way around.

He could very well imagine the things she was put through and the mere thought unleashed a wrath never before encountered. He longed to deal a deadly hand to the ones that dared harm his Evey.

Grimly he shook his head silently, willing his thoughts away from the vision of Evey bleeding and in pain, forcing himself to focus on the information he had gathered, concentrating on the plan he had worked out for her escape by his hands.

The place where they kept her was a little outside the Quarantine Zone, but close to underground tunnels leading into the maze beneath London. It was not big and as far as he could gather, Evey was the only prisoner held there at the moment.

The Fingermen would be lured away by a little distraction he would cause by the chemical sheds and while they were preoccupied, he would sneak in and reclaim Evey. And kill anyone who was unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Unimaginable hatred filled him as he heard some of the guards speak about his dear Evey. He had secretly bugged several of the guards and they served as his unknowing accomplices. Granting him the access he needed to save Evey.

These guards leered in sick pleasure about the amount of torture Creedy had ordered they put on Evey, not only beating her or hurting her physically to cause her to reveal any knowledge, but also starving her and weakening her, and using her weakness as an opportunity to touch his Evey very inappropriately. Hearing this, he vowed to vanquish them from the face of the earth.

_How dare they lay hands on that which is fairest under moon and sun!_

V could hear the sickening pleasure they received out of taking Evey in the most primal of manners. He could feel his muscles twitching in unreleased wrath, wishing he could kill them all, make them suffer before they died, pleading for death to escape the neverending pain dealt by him and in the end, they would perish, they would look up to his mask and receive their wish.

But not all would perish tonight. Tonight his goal was Evey.

Enraged V turned away from the voices and took a deep breath in a vain attempt to still the rage daring to overtake him and diminish all rational thought. Setting his thoughts on the plan for tonight he set his hat atop his head, smiling grimly behind Guy Fawkes fake and everlasting grin.

Death came for Creedy's men tonight, it lurked in the shadows and V was its vessel.

Silently he left the Shadow Gallery, blurring into the very darkness around, while he hurried through the tunnels, a figure moving swiftly, deadly predator and creature of night itself, bent on one goal only.

To reclaim the light of his dark existance.

_Hold out a little more, dearest Evey. I am coming for you..._

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_Read and review if you want^^_  
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	3. Chapter 3

And here it goes! Finally proof-read and I hope I found all spelling errors... At least I hope so^^

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**Chapter 3**

Evey's thoughts returned as her head hit the starkly white tiles. Her blood glistened in bizarre and entrancing patterns, sprinkling the walls and was smeared upon the floor.

Her mind had blanked during their 'interrogation' and she had fled into the dark recesses of her memory. But now, as she lifted her blurred gaze away from the glimmering pools of crimson all around her, the emotions returned. As she set her eyes on the man towering above her, who just closed his belt after taking what he craved, a new wave of cold engulfed her and washed all emotion away and left her behind with only blinding rage to feel. They all had taken her, had all raped her, sometimes cheering themselves on while watching her being taken by so many men, sometimes beating her nearly to death while they were inside her.

At first Evey had pleaded, had screamed in pure agony and shame, had fought back as much as her battered body would allow, but then, one time, she had simply closed her eyes and had fled into the memory of a time long gone. She replayed countless moments and conversations shared in the Shadow Gallery, had thought of V's voice or his almost childlike behaviour while he had battled the suit of armour. These memories played over and over in her mind helped her drown the shame and humiliation at what those pigs did to her.

_V, I'm so sorry. You were right and I was wrong. Please forgive me..._

The sound of sickly pleased laughter made her look up again, meeting the gaze of the man with all the strength she could still gather. That action was awarded with a powerful kick to the head, throwing her back against the wall, while red and black spots danced before Evey's eyes, daring her to seek refuge in the bliss of unconsciousness. But she couldn't allow herself to slip away, wouldn't think of what this swine might do to her while she was truly helpless.

"Stay down, ya whore! Unless ya want me to give it to ya again!"

Evey didn't answer, only listened to her faint breathing while she fought to stay awake. They hadn't given her anything to eat lately and judging by the hunger she felt it must have been some days since she had been fed the disgusting slime they called 'food'. Starvation began to take its toll on her, already she was barely able to walk by herself when they took her for another torture session, couldn't do much beyond sitting huddled in the corner of her cell, knees to her bony chest, silently staring straight ahead, talking to the voice in her head. As insane as it was; this voice was the only reprieve from the pain and the cold. Over these agonizingly long hours stretching into days and possibly weeks it had been the only hold Evey still harboured to this world. It had constantly reminded her to keep silent, to not betray V, had been the only comfort to her. As it was now, whispering out of the dark depth of thought.

_Shhh, Evey. Don't cry, you mustn't let them see you hurt..._

"I won't." Evey answered the voice faintly, yet that hideous man took it as clue to step closer and lean over her.

"Wot ya say, lovey? Wanna tell me somethin'?" he sneered into her ear, making Evey hate the man all the more, wishing he would just drop dead where he stood.

_Good, Evey. Hate him. Allow yourself to hate him. He deserves hate, deserves to die. Hate is good, Evey._

"Go to hell." she muttered weakly, daring in desperate defiance to set her eyes on the man again. Anger and hate washed over her as she looked at the man, staring him down, giving her that final push to defy him.

Faster than lightning his fist hit her head again, smacking it back to the wall, making her skin collide with a sickening smack to the tiles. Blood oozed out of the wound and ran down into her eyes, blurring everything behind a veil of crimson red.

While the man continued to spout insults and curses towards her, Evey just stared through the veil of crimson to the white tiles, splattered with her blood.

_Maybe I'll lose my mind finally... _Evey thought as she looked mesmerized at the pattern her blood had drawn, had painted the walls with. Bizarre and deadly as it was, it was beautiful, the clotted dark stains and occasional handprints on the blinding white of the walls and the floor spoke of dread, pain and anger.

_Do you really think you're going mad, Evey?_ the voice asked her and yet again Evey felt emotion wash over her, a cloud of insane rage enveloped her and Evey finally gave up fighting it, losing herself in the odd calmness of insanity.

The man had ceased his beating and cursing and had left the room, leaving her in that dirty rag covered with her own dried blood sitting on the bloodsoaked floor. Her torso leaned heavily against the wall and dimly Evey could discern a dreadening thought within her.

_I'm going to die here, right?_ she asked herself, wanting that voice to answer her.

_Well, little Evey, it seems that way. We shall perish and be forgotten, finding rest in a shallow grave. _

For a moment the knowledge and acceptance of death stunned Evey into mental silence. It wasn't as if she had never considered that possibility during the long hours of sitting in her cell. It was the fact that the thought of her demise no longer held any dread for her, now it promised relief and she was glad to accept it.

_So be it then..._ she thought quietly.

_And V?_ the voice asked back, also very quiet and controlled.

_I'll take his secrets to my grave. I wont betray him. I'll die anyway and if I can give him another day in which he can stop Creedy and Sutler, I will. _

Evey answered the voice, mirroring the calm presence. For a moment the silence prevailed and strechted into an eternity by itself.

_If we are indeed doomed to perish tonight, why not take some of them with us?_ the voice asked and Evey imagined it chuckling happily. Suddenly it felt so solid again, as if the voice had manifested itself again, being very solid and very real. And very dangerous, a rage seeping through the words and passing on to her.

Evey's thoughts ceased as she diverted her gaze to the puddle of blood close to her. This was her blood covering the floor, her blood that had been shed for a revolution she hadn't realized she was part of. V wouldn't have budged, wouldn't have given in, would have fought back until his last breath was taken, wouldn't have allowed to reduce him.

"And neither shall I." Evey said aloud, feeling her sanity slip even further away, while pure hate covered her being, washed all other emotion away besides it almost as if it wouldn't allow anything else being inside her now. Not even pain.

All wounds forgotten, all pains diminished a wrath replaced the calm voice so absolute, it seemed like an eclipse of anger.

Evey could no longer control what she did or thought, nor did she want to anymore. She allowed anger to overtake her and govern her actions. She reached down, covering her hand with dark blood and lifted her hand to the wall to make a last statement where her loyalties lay.

So absorbed and caught in blind rage, she didn't hear the sirens of alarms blaring through the building.

* * *

Everything worked according to plan, every movement precise and calculated, going the right speed at the right time into the right direction. V smiled smugly as he watched the majority of the guards run to the chemical sheds.

_Amazing what a well placed set of explosives next to a few minor flammable chemicals could cause..._

Silently V slipped through the doors and crept towards the location of his dear Evey. He hoped with every ounce of himself he wouldn't be too late, prayed she was still alive. He could tend all wounds she might have, but it would all be in vain if her body refused to fight further and chose to wither and die.

Only two guards had crossed his path and he had swiftly killed them, enjoying the wet sound his daggers caused as they sliced through their flesh. They hadn't even seen it coming, hadn't even had a chance to fight back. And though V would have preferred to kill them slowly, time was of most importance now.

He needed to find Evey and get away before they got the fire under control. That left him with a good ten minutes.

Hurrying down long, dimly lit hallways and corridors he quickly found the cell they kept her in. Whether it was deliberate or just a choice of fate, V didn't know, but Evey's cell was marked as number 4. Roman Numeral IV. I V. Fated irony, it seemed.

Quickly V unlocked the cell and opened the door, but was greeted with deadly silence. No one was in here and the cell looked disturbingly clean, as if it had been cleansed recently. For a split moment V felt despair clutch him, crushing his heart (or whatever remained of it) in the wake of Evey's possible death.

Taking another deep breath to keep his mind from blanking and simply killing all within this place, he recalled that they mostly cleaned the cell when Evey was taken for interrogation. And there were only two interrogation cells in this building.

Hurriedly V left and made his way further into the facility, counting the seconds and minutes, quietly ticking off the time when the fire would be under control and the guards would sweep the building in search for the one placing the explosive. In other words, before they came for him.

Presently a sound broke his thoughts and he came to a complete standstill, turning all his senses to the sounds ahead. They came out of the hallway leading to the interrogation cells and sounded disturbingly like something being violently beaten. Blind concern took hold of him at the thought that it must be Evey being beaten and he hurried once more down the hall, moving silently, but swiftly ever closer to the source of the sound. Grunts emanated from the room to the left, thuds followed it, a constant cracking. Repulsed V recognized that sound. It was the sound of bones breaking.

And then a shout rang out, a man screaming frantically to someone else.

"Grab her for God's sake!"

Narrowing his eyes behind the mask, V made the last steps to the door and practically froze at the sight that greeted him.

* * *

Calmly Evey waited. She sat pressed up against the wall, her hands still smeared with the blood she had drawn the symbol on the wall with. It was V's insignia, the incircled letter "V" and she rested beneath it, waited until the man would come back. And she knew he would come back, they always came back. Only this time she wouldn't allow him to leave again.

Evey had allowed rage to take hold of her and it lent her strength, determination and a willpower that even she couldn't comprehend fully.

And as expected, the door opened and the man stepped inside again, setting those unfeeling eyes onto her frame sitting calmly underneath the symbol of freedom, watching him inching ever closer.

_Come on, old man, only a little further..._ Evey thought and found that now her thoughts and the voice she had heard over the last days dimmed into one, oozing with barely concealed anger.

Grimly Evey smiled at the man and lo and behold! the man stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing her suspisciously.

_Yes, you better be afraid..._

But he was dumb, for he still thought she was no longer a threat to him.

"Oi! Whatcha did there, little terrorist whore? Done nice paintsies before ya die?"

Suddenly and unbidden a sentence she had read once in the Shadow Gallery popped inside Evey's head and she felt like laughing maniacally as she quoted the saying, very much like V used to do all the time.

"'He who doesn't fear death dies only once.'" she said aloud, feeling rage lending her strength, granting her power to finish it tonight.

_When the sun rises, we will both be dead, you and I... _

And then he was close enough for Evey to take action. Faster than the man could react, Evey had propelled her body at him, thrown him off balance and had him pinned to the ground underneath her. Those precious seconds while he was too stunned to move, she used to dig her hands into his neck. She had no idea where she got the force to do that, but she strangled the man with her bare hands. He jerked compulsively, trying in vain to throw the woman off of him, trying in vain to breathe.

And while the life left him ever further, Evey smiled at him with pleasure, was glad he would die at her hands like this. He deserved death, deserved his fate, he who had taken her so often deserved to be killed by her, to take the ultimate lead, to control the span of his life.

And then finally, he stopped struggling and his heart gave out, his eyes staring sightlessly into hers, reflecting her own cold stare to the outter world. For a moment Evey remained where she was, revelled in the thing she had just done, but knowing it wasn't over yet. She would take as many as she could, would wage war against them until a hail of bullets stopped her.

She now moved upon the wings of rage and vengeance, cared no longer for herself or the world, wanted only revenge.

_Look up... _the voice said and Evey followed obedientely, only to smirk cruelly as four men entered the room, looking a bit too concerned to be frightening at the sight they were greeted with. They were armed with their batons, the things she had previously been so afraid of, yet now it only provoked an amused smirk.

Slowly Evey released the throat of the dead man underneath her and stood shakily up to face the others. The last bit of Evey that could still think warned her to be careful, but she ignored it grimly. To the Fingermen she was dead meat anyway and even if V cared, it was unlikely that he'd come and help her. She had betrayed him and having done so, she guessed he hated her now as fiercely as she hated the Fingermen in front of her.

For a moment the whole scenery seemed to freeze, time slowed and came to a standstill, broken only by Evey's laboured breathing. And then they attacked, encircling her and started beating her up again.

_How creative... Get some new material champs..._

She didn't even feel the pain anymore, all was hidden behind a veil of blinging rage. To this day Evey didn't know how she managed to get ahold of one of the clubs, but suddenly her fingers grabbed the cold metal and she fought back. Putting all her rage into one blow, she let the unyielding metal collide with the skull of the Fingerman in front of her. Blood sprayed forth, but he wasn't finished yet, merely broke down and Evey continued to beat him, taking icy revenge for all the beatings she had taken over the last days. And then the first fell dead and it was the turn of the one behind her, who just attempted to grab her. His nose broke with a sickening spurt as Evey let the metal collide with his face.

Everything blurred, nothing mattered anymore, the only thing Evey was aware of was the blood she shed. Now it was her turn to get payback for everything they had done. For the beatings, the kicks, the starving, the raping; she painted new patterns of blood onto the walls, not once screaming out when they managed to hit her.

With the last bit of sanity she still harboured she managed to hear them yelling something, probably they begged for mercy. But she wouldn't have mercy on them tonight. Tonight she would ride on the back of Anarchy, would let revenge take its place and when they would kill her, she would know that she had fought until the last breath had been taken and the last drop of blood had been spilled.

The cracking of their skulls built a morbid symphony, broken by their yelps and painful howls, tipped off by the sound of blood splattering down and the strange wet music of brainmatter being bashed to a meshed substance.

And then it was over and they lay still. A sea of crimson enveloped her, covered her from head to toes, had painted its own piece of art onto her pale skin. Her sunken cheeks were splattered with tiny dots of blood, one of them had grabbed her throat in a last ditch attempt to stop her from killing him and his handprint was a bloodied smear across her neck. Only now dared exhaustion to cover her once more and Evey felt her knees shake, threatening to throw her to the ground and die now. She had taken five Fingermen, wasn't that enough?

_It's never enough, Evey..._ the voice whispered once more, but the anger vanished slowly.

"Evey?" A faint whisper behind her, a voice she recognized and weakly Evey turned around to face the next one. But the one standing in the doorway wasn't about to attack her.

Like a vision of death V himself stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders almost brushing the frame and the top of his black hat only inches from the tip of the door. Fawkes' faked grin leered at her, but the man behind the facade stared concerned and more than a little worried at the mayhem around the frail shape of Evey. And then Evey realized who it was that had called her, she had so often heard him say her name, she would recognize his voice under thousands in a similar costume.

_It can't be real!_ her mind cried frantically, assuring Evey that she now indeed had lost her grip on sanity. Slowly she shook her head, still not able to take her eyes away from the looming black figure less than five feet away.

"No. You're not real." she whispered back and saw the mask tilt in confusion, V's version of a furrowed brow.

"Evey I assure you, I am very real." he spoke back and made a first step towards her.

But Evey, too far over the edge to see that he was an actual physical being, backed up against the wall, holding the baton out in front of her in defiant challenge.

"No! I'm hallucinating. He wouldn't be here." she said back, maintaining a disturbing amount of calmness in the face of her 'hallucination' and pressed her back to the wall behind her in search for support. Already her legs dared to give out underneath her, but she wouldn't break down just yet. She couldn't. If she broke down now, she wouldn't find the strength again to stand once more and meet her end bravely. Wouldn't have the strength to finish it tonight.

"Oh Evey..." V breathed as he rounded one of the disfigured corpses. The sight of it made even him flinch in sympathy for those men, for the head had practically been bashed in with a force V didn't think Evey had possessed. His face was barely discernible anymore, only a bloodied mass of flesh with occasional splits of bone and teeth sticking out.

The realisation that they had pushed Evey over the edge so far that she had sought revenge of the most brutal kind, taking retribution in cold blood was hard and he silently wished he could have been able to prevent it. Not for the sake of these Fingermen, for they deserved to die, but for the sanity of his beloved little Evey, who stood shakily leaning against the wall, still staring in desperate hope at him. Only now did V see the insignia at the wall behind her and realized why she had done it.

She had refused to give up, had refused to talk and they had threatened to kill her. In here, her sanity had slipped from her grap for these long moments and she had taken it upon herself to avenge the things done to her. V could sympathise with that. It had taken him years to overcome this blind rage and move about calculated and observing.

Her trembling voice shook him out of his observance of the wreckage around him, dimly seeing the dried stains of blood all around.

"He wouldn't be here. He wouldn't come for me. You're not real, you're just a hallucination." she breathed out, her wide eyes watching every movement he made.

Slowly he stepped ever closer, confident that even if she decided to attack him, he would be able to wrench the baton from her hand. But she remained frozen, only staring at him, as if she couldn't believe her own words, or as if she silently hoped they weren't true.

"Why would you believe that, my dear? I am as real as you, you see?" with that he reached out and closed his gloved hand around Evey's wrist, making contact with her to assure her he was truly there. The sight of her eyes tinted with blood that mixed with the vibrant blue he had so often gazed into was blurred, as if she couldn't decide yet what to do or if she should dare to believe him.

Ever so slowly, painfully slowly almost, her left hand reached up towards the mask. He didn't care that she left bloodied trails on the surface of it, he just looked into her eyes and tried to figure out what she might be thinking. But as easy as it had been before to figure that out, as hard was it now. Her eyes were clouded by pain, anger, hate and exhaustion. She wouldn't last much longer.

As Evey felt his hand on her wrist, the baton fell from her grasp and she dared to hope against better judgement that it was true. The voice inside her mind dimmed ever further, until she was reduced to that calm whisper she had heard countless times before. V was here, he was solid, he was real, he had come for her at last.

Shakily Evey lifted her hand to touch the mask, watched entranced as her fingers trailed a red spur from the slit of his left eye to the chin of the Fawksian mask. The metal was cold against the tip of her fingers, but it was a soothing cold that calmed her roaring mind.

"You're here." she whispered, briefly in awe over his sudden appearance here. She had been so certain that he would leave her to rot in this prison, would not care anymore what happened to her, especially after she had betrayed him. But he was here, real, solid and oh so warm. His breath ghosted over her frozen skin and warmed her, silenced the rage within her and briefly Evey was tempted to simply lean forward and rest against him, welcome her death engulfed by his scent and warmth.

His hands grabbed her gently by the shoulders as her knees finally sagged as the last remnant of strength left her, though she didn't fall into the blissful silence of unconsciousness.

"Evey, we don't have much time. Come. Let us leave this place." he spoke gently and guided her out of the room, maintaining a firm hold on her shoulders. His soft scent wafted over her and Evey felt her mind blanking again, trusting him to lead her way, while she was once more transported back into the memory of her first morning within the Shadow Gallery, when she had seen him for the very first time in that ridiculous apron, building such a harsh contrast to the unyielding darkness of his other attire. The sound of his voice echoed through her mind, as he had greeted her in french, had even briefly bowed to her as she had appeared in the doorway.

And before she knew it, or could hinder it, her legs gave out and she sagged completely in V's arms, losing all feeling of time or space as she was only dimly aware of his arms around her and the warmth of his chest as he carried her silently. With each step taking her a little further away from this nightmare.

* * *

As always, reviews make me smile and I love getting them^^


	4. Chapter 4

here also is the final chapter! I hope you like!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

He hadn't spoken a word since he had led her out of that accursed room, had fought to keep his cool as he listened to her weakened murmur about french and eggs, while he quietly wondered what it was her broken mind made her see. He constantly had the picture in his mind's eye, when he had entered the room, just as Evey had dealt the last blow against her attackers. She had seemed invincible, almost godlike then; a vision of rage, vengeance and death combined in one woman. And though it pained him to see what it had taken to break the shackles of her existance he couldn't help but marvel at the terrible beauty she had portrayed to him. How she had stood, her hand closed firmly around the handle of the metal baton, breathing heavily, staring at nothing at all, as if she hadn't known what was transpiring. The blood that had dripped from her achingly pretty features had built a vibrant contrast to her normally pale skin. Sometimes he imagined her being a living porcelain doll, something to guard and keep safe, lest it crack and break, shattered beyond repair.

But this moment, as she had stood barefooted in the sea of the lively liquid of her enemies, her dirty orange rag hanging limply from her bony shoulders, she had seemed ... powerful. Admirable. Worthy of worshipping.

Yet it pained him to recall her disbelief at his appearance, had she truly believed he would leave her behind? Had she believed he would forsake her?

_Never, not in a million ages of life... _

And now, as her dainty figure rested in his arms, one of her hands snaked delicately around his neck and her quiet, even breaths (though laboured as they were) assured him that she was only unconscious, merely resting from so many hours of torture, he allowed himself a moment of pause and study her drawn features.

Her cheeks were sunken and hollow, countless bruises covered her skin, some wounds being open and slowly oozing driplets of blood that seeped into the fabric of his black tunic and cloak, deep darkened shadows lingered underneath her eyes and she was over all a pitiful sight to him. The amount of pain she must have suffered on the hands of Creedy's men made his blood very nearly boil.

Yes, he had imagined a lot of possibilites as to what she might look like when he found her, but in all honesty he had expected to find her either huddled in a corner, shivering in nameless fear or lying limply and cold on a darkened floor, her eyes staring sightlessly to the world around. He hadn't expected to find her in this glorious display of pure anger and hate, dealing death and bashing the heads of the Fingermen in. It almost made him proud of her and he felt his chest swell as he recounted the insignia she had drawn on the wall, doubtless in her own blood. She had displayed her loyalty in a last act of defiance and judging by the looks of her, she had fully well been prepared to die tonight.

_Death might still take her..._

V dreaded the very thought of it. His concern grew with every hastened step he took towards the safety of the Gallery, where she could recuperate and her wounds could be tended. Quickly he weaved his way through the tunnels, constantly listening for any other sounds besides his steady footfalls, yet all was silent except for the occasional skidding of rats claws on the concrete. So at least they weren't following him as he took Evey ever further towards London and his home.

After agonizingly long minutes, he reached one of the many doors leading into his sanctuary. Quickly he slipped through the doorway, allowing it to swing closed and lock behind him, made his way over to his former bedroom, the one he had given to Evey as he had brought her here the very first time.

Gently he placed her still form onto the sheets and left to gather all the supplies he needed to tend the worst of her wounds. On the way he hurriedly discarded the hat and his coat, sliding off his knife-belt and made his way into the bigger bathroom, where he kept all the medical supplies and instruments he had stolen over the course of twenty long years.

Cotton swabs, surgical gauze and tape, disinfectant and antiseptic creams, bandages and various other things. He knew fully well that his mind ran on Autopilot, forcing him to do the most urgent things first and after it had been done and he could allow himself to rest a little, the thoughts would return.

Upon returning, he saw that Evey hadn't moved a single inch from the position he had left her in, it almost looked as if she was a murdered angel, coming to rest into eternity on these sheets. Placing the supplies on the nightstand, V left once more to get clean water and a soft towel to wash the blood away that praised her victory.

Gently he worked on the parts of flesh he could see, keeping the rag on her, allowing her as much dignity as he could while still ensuring that he washed the main part of the blood away. Very carefully he cleaned her beautiful face, taking the crusted blood away on her features and her skull, daring a first look onto her wounds. Some rather large bruises and lacerations manifested themselves on her skull, and briefly he mourned the loss of her silken locks, he had so liked to see. Sometimes he had allowed himself to wonder what these glorious strands of hair might feel like, should he ever have to opportunity to touch them with his bare had. But he had always restrained himself from following that desire. And now Creedy and his henchmen had taken her beautiful hair and shaved her head, yet she didn't look particularly ugly to him. If anything, it made her all the more beautiful. Powerful and strong, displaying a hard edge to the world itself.

Willing his thoughts away from her beauty, he started to gently clean the wounds and apply disinfectant to them. From the looks of it, they would hurt and she would be quite shaken for a few days, harbouring a terrible headache possibly, but they weren't life threatening. The bloodloss seemed more concerning. V had seen the amount of blood in that room and most of it on the walls and the floor had been dried and crusted, so it meant that she had suffered a substantial amount of pain in that room. Perhaps they had simply left it uncleaned to increase the dread on her by showing her how much of the life lending liquid she had already poured onto the white tiles.

His hands moved on their own accord, working ceaselessly on her wounds, washing away dried blood and when he at last was finished with his task and allowed himself to draw a deep breath, he finally succumbed to his desire to touch her. Very lightly his gloved finger caressed her pale and sunken cheek and he silently wished those eyes to open and direct their gaze at him.

"Oh, my dear Evey, what have they done to you?" he whispered quietly revelling in a brief moment of mindless despair over the mere sight of her battered body.

But it only lasted a moment until he had reigned control back into his hands. Very gently he tucked her frail shape under the blanket and settled himself down on a chair nearby, grabbing the first book that crossed his path and prepared himself for a sleepless night to wait when she would awaken.

To wait until this angel opened his eyes once more.

* * *

Morning came and passed and still Evey slept blissfully, her even breathing echoing through his very soul. V hadn't moved much since he had chosen to keep vigil at Evey's bedside, caught between dread and hope. Hope that she would awake soon, yet dreading the moment it would happen. For this one moment within the interrogation cell, he had caught the mad gleam of true lunacy in her eyes and he hoped that it wouldn't catch hold on her. Hoped that despite what had been done to her, she would maintain a grip on sanity and allow her mind to accept the freedom she had taken.

But she should wake up soon, V had seen the signs of starvation that lingered on her white skin and knew she needed to eat something soon, or her body would simply give up and wither to death.

He had disposed of the dirty and bloodsoaked towels and supplies, had provided her with a fresh glass of water, that now stood waiting atop her nightstand, next to a box of painkillers. She had stirred sometimes in her slumber, sometimes mumbling words that sounded contend and almost happy, had breathed deeply in and fell back into the cocoon of nothingness, always the ghost of a smile playing around her lips. And every time it had happened, V wondered what it was she dreamt about, what thoughts her mind conjured to keep her in blissful ignorance of the pain around her.

Did she dream about him too?

And if so, what was it about that kept her contended? What was it that kept her smiling so faintly to the shadows of her dreams?

Each time she stirred, V placed a comforting hand to her shoulder, assuring her that she was safe, that he was here and there was no need to give into fear. Silently he told her that he would keep her safe as long as it was needed, but he couldn't utter the words, couldn't tell her about the dread and the admiration he felt as he watched her sleeping features now.

If she continued to sleep throughout the day, she would be too weakened. Come evening and she would still be asleep, he'd have to give her an I.V drip of nutrients and saline, providing her body at least with bare essentials for survivial. Each moment that passed and fluttered into infinity, was both cherished and hated by V. He longed for her to wake up, to look up at him and hear his name from her lips.

And just as he had allowed himself to accept his longing and dwell among his own memories, he saw the Lady stirring once more, only now it seemed that she finally was on her way to consciousness.

Relieved V breathed out, it appeared to be unneccessary to plunge a needle into her arm after all. Silently he crept out of the room to prepare a light meal for her, her stomach wouldn't be able to keep anything solid in yet, but she needed nutrients. Smiling the first true smile in 10 days, full of relief and unveiled happiness, he busied himself at the stove to cook for her, as he had done countless times before.

* * *

The first thing Evey registered was the smell. It didn't smell like her cell, nor the interrogation room and briefly she wondered if this was a new depth of her madness, if her mind now provided her with a fake memory of scent to entertain her. And then came the pain, rolling in agonizing waves from the top of her head down to her toes. Weakly she lifted her arm to grab her sore head, feeling a thin fabric covering her skull.

_What's this? Keeping me alive to torture me further? _

With great effort she opened her eyes, took a moment to adjust to the soft layer of warm light glowing near her and when her vision cleared she found herself both confused and marvelling at the sight that met her. She was in her room, the familiar scent of old books and stone walls surrounding her, mixed with a strange smell of antiseptic and disinfectant.

_Am I hallucinating this? Or dreaming this?_

She was in the Shadow Gallery, the sheets covering her body feeling as real as the pain that coursed through her tired and sore limbs. Tiredly she let her gaze wander around the room, finally settling on the nightstand beside her bed, a glass of water and a medicinal bottle filled with plain white pills standing atop it. And with this sight came a distant memory, almost as if she had awoken from a dreadful nightmare only to find herself at a safe haven, a calm surrounding.

V standing in the room filled with blood, the scent tickling her nose, his voice drifting through the veils of crimson and reaching her dimmed sanity inside. The feel of his arms as he carried her and his strong heartbeat that lulled her to blissful sleep.

Quietly groaning she levered herself upward, forcing herself to sit, ignoring the pain emanating from her body. If this was a dream then it sure as hell was painful, that much was for certain. Weakly she grabbed the glass and poured the cool liquid down her throat, forced to use both hands to lift the glass to her lips and grateful for the soothing it provided to her sore mouth.

When she placed it back, it was drowned, drunken in slow considering sips as to not overwhelm her body with the liquid.

Evey dropped her gaze and found that she was still clothed in her prison garb, but the blood was gone, washed away by careful and gentle hands. Well, at least the parts exposed by this dirty excuse for clothing. Her heart soared as she realized that V had cleaned her without taking her clothing away, providing her with a sense of honoured dignity, refusing to expose her entire body to his sight.

_V, always the gentleman..._

With the thought of V a sound reached her ears. A sound she had often imagined, but hadn't heard in her waking mind while being imprisoned. It was V humming and moving around in the kitchen. The clatter of plates was quiet, but discernable.

Still believing she was dreaming or caught in a harmounious hallucination, Evey reached a weak arm towards some clothes still lying on a chair nearby. Ignoring the cry her muscles uttered, she relieved herself of the orange rag and covered her body in the warm calmness of the cotton sweatpants and a wollen sweater. She breathed deeply the scent of roses that still lingered on the clothing, remembering the smell and revelling in it. It gave her the strength she needed to stagger to her feet, holding onto the wall for support. The floor was cold underneath her feet, a sensation no longer frightening to her.

With every breath she took Evey began to believe more and more that this was real. V had come for her, had rescued her out of the prison of the Finger and brought her back to his home. Had tended her wounds and had provided her with warmth and care.

And Evey wished for it to be real, wished for it so desperately, that every other thought paled in comparison. On weak and shaky feet Evey made her way slowly out of the room, keeping to the wall to hold her upright, aware but ignorant of the pain roaring through her. An eternity seemed to pass until she was in the hall leading to the kitchen.

And then she saw him. V, standing in his kitchen, with that lovable silly apron bound around himself, humming while stirring in a small pot. She had imagined this so often, had dreamed of instances similar, had reminded herself constantly what he looked like, sounded like, moved like. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took in the scene in front of her. Her intake of breath did not go unnoticed by the image in front of her and the mask turned in silent surprise.

It only lasted a moment, then he was moving towards her, had reached her in an instant and gently placed his hands on her arms to hold her up, support her while she couldn't look anywhere else other than him.

"As relieved I am to see you awake, dear Evey, I believe you shouldn't be walking about just yet." he breathed towards her, and she could feel his emotion wafting through her. Could sense his breath as he spoke to her.

_This is real!_ her mind cried out in utter bliss and happiness and her eyes reacted by tearing up even more.

The first salty drop splashed unto her cheeks and she finally allowed herself to take what she had craved for so many hours now. Smiling faintly, she leaned forward, let her frame collapse into his hold, while the first sob escaped her lips.

V tensed as her head made contact with his chest, but his arms seemed to move on their own accord as he closed his grip around her and held her crying form to his chest. She needed this, needed to let the emotion out and he in turn needed to assure himself she was there, was alive, would be healthy again.

They stood like that for a small eternity, her frame shaking with sobs and the tears staining his tunic. He rubbed small circles on her back, a motion he had seen in many movies when people comforted each other. He couldn't remember if he had done it before, he couldn't remember anything from before Larkhill, but the motion felt natural, practised, as if he had been doing things like this before indeed.

"Evey?" he whipered gently, drinking in the feeling of her shaven head tucked underneath his chin, while he felt the choking sobs subsiding and this vision of perfection holding onto him. Slowly she leaned back, still maintaining her hold on him and looked with teary eyes up to his mask. Gently he rubbed his index finger against her cheek, brushing the tears away and recognized his heart skip a beat or two as she leaned into his touch.

"I'm sorry, I just... all this... I kept thinking of it... and it kept me there..." she whispered barely audible, her eyes never leaving his, as if she was able to peer behind the mask and look through his eyes directly into his soul.

"What, dear?" he asked equally quiet, unconsciously unwilling to speak louder, in fear she could quake and dissappear again.

"You... breakfast... eggy in a basket... the apron..." she choked on another sob, new tears forming in her eyes and now V could understand the murmurs he had heard during her sleep. She had dreamed about him, about this, him making breakfast for her.

The knowledge of this made his heart almost give out. Her memory of him had maintained her hold on this world. Forcing himself to push that thought a little further back in his mind and reminding him to think of more pressing concerns, he slid an arm around her shoulders, being oddly pleased when she leaned into him again.

"You need to rest again, Evey. You shouldn't walk around yet. Come, my dear, sit down. You need something to strengthen you again." with that he carefully helped her over to a chair by the table and let her sit down. Numbly she nodded and lifted her arm to brush away the tears, wincing when her hand hit a bruise on her cheekbone. Her eyes followed his every movement, while she sat silently and tried to control her breathing. She seemed as if she couldn't decide yet if this was real or just a dream.

Her gaze cleared for a moment as V placed a glass of water in front of her and turned to the stove again, filling a bowl with steaming soup. The smell alone made Evey's mouth water. After the stuff she had been fed by the Finger, a plain chickensoup seemed like utter bliss to her.

V accompanied her at the table, watching silently as she took spoonful after spoonful, each bite serving as a bringer of energy to her malnourished body. And when she at last set the spoon down, she had eaten almost the whole bowl, a bit of colour had risen to her pale features again and she had drunken the full glass of water. Yet she kept her gaze fixed to the surface of the wooden table underneath her hands, not looking up and furrowing her brow in a display of uneasy concern, but not fear. She said no word as V cleared the table and sat down opposite her again. Neither seemed to find the right words, so they both stayed quiet, V studying her features with a new sense of attraction, recalling the moment his eyes had met hers in the interrogation cell. It had been fearless, enraged, even mad, but not beyond saving. She had momentarily lost her mind, had turned on her captors and had ferosciously killed them without a sense for mercy or regret. He wondered what had given her the last push, what had been the ultimate drop of water that had broken the proverbial dam.

Even now, as she sat here, she seemed enshrouded by a cloud of pure strength, of godlike might, it made even him shiver in delight.

When she spoke, his mind cleared and he saw only her.

"I didn't believe you would really come for me." she whispered, her gaze still glued to the spot beneath her hands. Her quiet admittance froze V to the seat for a split second, but then he again found that his body moved on its own will, as he suddenly found himself crouching in front of her stool, taking her dainty hands into his own.

"Why would you believe that, dear Evey?" he asked back, briefly dreading the answer, but knowing she needed to speak to him now, needed to tell him this.

"I thought you would hate me, V." For the first time since she had sat down to eat a bit, she looked up and unconsciously met his eyes behind the mask. And what he saw nearly hade his heart stop entirely. She actually believed he could hate her. He wanted so badly to make her see the depth of emotion she had stirred inside him, but for now, he only needed to ensure her.

"Never could I do that, Evey. I could never hate you, just as much as I could never hurt you." he answered her silent question gently, while at the same time stroking her bony cheek with a caressing thumb. Again she leaned into his touch, as if it was all she craved for now. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of leather clouding her, allowed herself to settle again and be at peace. When she opened her eyes once more, her gaze was concerned but still without fear. V thought for a moment he would simply lose himself in those glistening pools of her eyes, but managed to concentrate on her and her words.

"Can you ever forgive me what I did?" she asked, her voice dropping with each letter a little more, as if she thought he would forsake her now at last and leave her behind in a world that meant to kill her. V could see in her eyes that she was not so much concerned about death, she was worried he would be able to throw her away, out of his life.

_As if that would be possible. My heart would stop beating without her..._

"Evey." he breathed and inched a tiny bit closer to her, tilting the mask to the side a bit, showing her that he was sincere.

"I already forgave you."

Her soft sigh was utter bliss and relief all poured into one exhale of oxygen and she leaned forward again, resting her forehead against the mask.

Long they sat like that, her grateful gaze boring into his own, neither moving.

At last, V brought her back to her bed, and watched as she slept again. A sleep so wholly and blissfully, while a silent smile graced her face, he felt himself settle again as well. She was glorious in her freedom, achingly beautiful even in her sleep, disturbingly powerful while at rest, emanating a silent might that was hard to comprehend by words.

A sigh long held back forced his way free and V felt his muscles relaxing, felt the dread leave him and be replaced by a calm, soothing emotion he hadn't felt so far. But no matter what it meant, this sense of peace and harmony as he watched her sleep, the only thing that held any worth to him was Evey right as she was now.

The angel was back inside his life, more beautiful than he could have ever imagined her to be.

**The End**

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**And thus it was. Tell me what you think of it! Its easy, just click the green button below and write me a line or two to make me smile^^**  
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